Moonlight on the Senses
by Batwings79
Summary: What might happen in Series Five? If one were to leave one's fiance sitting alone in the moonlight... (Rated T for OTP kissing)
1. Chapter 1

She sat dumbfounded, staring down at the elegant diamond ring he had slipped onto her finger. Looking up in confusion, she could see his lips were still moving but it took a few moments for his words to sink in, something about "…speak with Lord Grantham." Before she knew it, she was staring at his retreating back as he strode purposefully toward the Abbey.

Richard said, "Good evening, your Lordship," as he passed Lord Merton on his way out the side door but received little more than a curt nod as the man pushed past him and made a beeline for Lord Grantham. Placing his hat firmly on his head as he turned to take the short cut through the rose garden on his way back to the village, he spied her sitting on the bench, alone in the moonlight. He knew that Lord Merton had been spending more and more time at Crawley House since last year's season but something must have happened for the man to have left her looking so bereft and alone.

"Good evening, Mrs. Crawley," he said politely as he neared the bench.

"Good evening, Dr. Clarkson," she replied with a slight grimace that she hope resembled a smile, "Someone in the Abbey under the weather?"

"One of the hallboys with a stomach ache, sneaking one too many helpings of apple pie I venture!" He watched her give him a distracted nod, staring off into the distance. "And you Mrs. Crawley, how are you this evening?"

Her head turned at the sound of his voice and she blew her breath out through her nose. "Truthfully?" she asked looking up at him with an arched eyebrow, "Confused…and completely at loose ends!"

"Can I help in some way?" He came around the corner of the bench and caught the glint of moonlight as it sparked off the diamond on the third finger of her left hand. "I see…perhaps this is a conversation you should be having with someone else. I'll bid you goodnight, shall I?" He tipped his hat and began to turn away.

"I wish you wouldn't," she said plaintively and reached for his hand, "I could use a friend right now."

"I'm not certain how I can help, it seems fairly straightforward to me…" his voice trailed off as his fingers closed around hers, a wave of emotion almost overwhelming him. "You've been walking out with Lord Merton and he's decided to…to seal the deal." He held her left hand up between them, showing off the dazzling diamond.

"I don't know that I want him to seal the deal."

"It's alright, you know, you don't have to feel guilty," he said softly, his eyes searching her face for some small sign that she understood what he was referring to. "People change…it's okay to change your mind."

"Maybe you're right, but I can think of only one way to be certain," her voice was soft as his, "kiss me…"

Mesmerized by the directness of her gaze, he began to lift her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles.

"No…" she said firmly and pulled her hand from his, "_Kiss_ me, as a man would kiss a woman…"

"Isobel, I can't!" he exclaimed and turned away from her.

"You can't…or you won't?"

"It wouldn't be proper, me k-kissing a woman," he stuttered, "I mean a woman betrothed to another!"

"I'm not engaged…yet! Please, Richard…" She could see him soften when she used his Christian name and rose slowly to stand before him. Holding her gaze steady, she lifted her face to meet his as he leaned in to press his lips against hers. Tentative and awkward at first, the brim of his hat bumping against her forehead, it was only a moment before they were both overwhelmed by the sensation.

He found his hands gripping her hips, amazed at how his fingers instinctively curled around them. Relaxing into the warm feeling when she deepened the kiss, his arms moved of their own accord to cradle her softly against his chest. The perfect fit, as if they'd been created for one another for this very purpose.

Sinking into his soft embrace, her lips parted to nibble at his lower lip, heart racing when she heard him sigh contentedly. Wanting to hear more, she nipped him sharply and was pleased at his grunt of surprised pleasure. Concentrating on the vibrations emanating from his chest, she missed the sound of her own throaty moan when his tongue slipped into her mouth and began to explore.

She tasted of fine wine and sweet cream as flashes of dancing firelight and rumpled sheets crossed his mind. Leaving a trail of wet kisses along her jawline, his hunger growing as he discovered the salty taste of her collarbone and nibbled the soft rich skin behind her ear.

He smelled of soap and aftershave and there was no mistaking the faint scent of antiseptic when she buried her face against his neck. Her head was swimming with the heady mixture as it hadn't since she she'd lost her husband, as she had never dreamed it would again.

Feeling her head moving back and forth against his shoulder, he pulled back to look down into her face. One finger trailed over the curve of her cheek where he could see her blush even in the pale moonlight. Her dark brown eyes sparkling, he felt himself falling, as if into a pool of unveiled emotions. Richard leaned in again, this kiss sweet and slow and tender.

Lord Merton stood at a distance, another long thin shadow amongst the hedges, watching their passion unfold before him. He'd asked her to wait until he returned from his quest, from asking Lord Grantham for her hand in marriage. He vaguely remembered passing someone on his way into the drawing room but it wasn't until he ventured a peek around the stone pillar beside the garden entrance that he realized exactly who it was.

"I'm sorry it took so long to break away from the ladies," chuckled Lord Grantham pausing for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness on the veranda.

The tall man continued to gaze into the distance, lost in his own thoughts. His first had been an arranged marriage, loveless and unhappy for both of them. The beauty, standing there in the moonlight, had awakened something in him that he hadn't known existed, feelings of happiness and being lighthearted. He had even been tempted to hold her in his arms and kiss her on more than several occasions…but he knew without a doubt that she would never look at him the way she was looking at Clarkson, would never give herself over to _his_ touch the way she yielded to the doctor.

Robert cleared his throat before asking, "You wanted a private word, James?"

"Um, yes…" mumbled Lord Merton as he turned to give his full attention to his friend, "I'll be leaving tomorrow…on the early train, unfinished business in London…you know the sort…" He began walking back towards the lights of the Abbey, drawing Robert with him.

"Oh? I suppose Cousin Isobel was disappointed to hear the news?" Robert asked, hoping to glean some confirmation of the gossip that the women in his family had been bantering about lately.

"I've not had the opportunity to tell her yet."

"I didn't see her return from the garden with you," Robert blurted out before realizing that he'd given away the fact that he'd been watching the pair all evening. "Perhaps she's still admiring the roses?"

"Perhaps…I'm sure she will find me when she is ready," Lord Merton gestured to the French doors leading back into the drawing room, "Would you consider indulging in a gentleman's game of snooker while my valet finishes packing?"


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost two o'clock in the morning and the cigar smoke hung heavily over the snooker table. Robert trounced him at almost every turn but James was beginning to turn the tide when Carson entered the room carrying a small silver tray in front of him.

"Pardon me, your Lordship," he said quietly standing to attention, "a message for Lord Merton."

"Would you like another?" asked Robert, pointing to James' tumbler with the scotch decanter in his hand as the man strode over to retrieve the cream colored envelope from the butler. "You can go, Carson, we'll see ourselves to bed."

Recognizing the handwriting, James took the proffered glass and moved to sit in one of the leather armchairs near the fire where there was more light. Pulling out the folded stationery, a scrap of lace with the initials IC embroidered in the corner, fell into his lap. Closing his fingers around the knotted kerchief, he knew exactly what it contained. Slipping the small bundle into the pocket of his waistcoat, he turned the parchment sheets toward the light and began to read.

_My dearest James,_

_I can only surmise by your lack of return to the garden this evening that you must have happened upon a most unexpected circumstance. There is no excuse for my behavior, so I will offer none. I only ask that you not think too harshly of Dr. Clarkson. He is a kind and considerate man and like you, he has suffered at the hands of my seemingly fickle emotions. There is little that I can offer up to assuage the hurt and confusion that you must be feeling except possibly an explanation._

_Dr. Clarkson and I have been friends, good friends, and colleagues, for the better part of ten years now. There was a time, not long before Matthew died, that Dr. Clarkson asked if I had ever considered marrying again. I will admit that I had been considering it, given thought to what it might be like to be married to the village doctor, and then I thought of all the times we disagreed, argued, told each other off. Even now I am smiling at the fact that these disagreements energize me, make me feel independent and empowered, for never once has Dr. Clarkson made me feel less knowledgeable, less capable or less of my own person as a result. _

_It was my fear that my relationship with Dr. Clarkson might change, not that he would try to curb my enthusiasm or independence but that he might begin to hold back, to not be as open to argument with his wife, as he might be with his colleague. And so I told him no, I liked my life the way that it was and didn't want anything, including my friendship with him, to change. _

_And of course, my life changed immediately…with the birth of little George and the death of my son. I found myself lost, adrift, unable to find my way in a world devoid of everyone I loved most. I am truly thankful for all of the people that loved or cared for me in return. Dr. Clarkson, Robert and Cora, the Dowager Countess…all rallied to keep me involved, to give my life purpose...but perhaps it was you who had the most profound effect. _

_Over the months, as you and I have gotten to know each other, we have shared the experiences of marriage and children and loss of a spouse. We've grown close as friends and confidantes and I believe we have a true affection for one another. You have reminded me what it is like to be treated as a woman, to be courted and appreciated, and I discovered that I did indeed miss having that in my life. Yet you spoke of how unhappy your marriage had been, that you had remained a widower as you wouldn't like to repeat the experience. And so, I looked upon the flowers, the invitations, the attention, as tokens of affection between friends, very good friends. Imagine my surprise when you went down on one knee and presented me with your ring. _

_It is not that I think that marriage to you would be anything less than splendid, but would it be true, for either of us? You need a partner who is up to the whirlwind of society life, who can keep your house, plan your parties, keep track of all the little details. My skills lend themselves more to managing hospitals and barracks and bringing babies into the world. And that is why I feel that I must return your ring. _

_As for myself, I spoke the truth when I said that I like my life as it is, that I do not wish for anything to change…but if it is to change in that fashion, I would need a partner that is as head-strong and passionate as I am. Someone who knows when to push me, and isn't afraid to do it. I find that Dr. Clarkson has fit that bill quite nicely these past ten years and tonight, I found that he also has a passion __for__ me. Tomorrow, I shall seek him out and plight my troth, if he will still have me._

_My greatest fear is that I may have rent asunder the threads of my friendship with you. As Mary's godfather, I know that we shall see each other in the future, I can only hope that you will forgive me my seeming indiscretion and continue to cou__nt__ me as a friend, as I do you. _

_With warmest regards,_

_Isobel Crawley_


	3. Chapter 3

He was on his way home for lunch when he ran into the postman. Taking the stack of letters he began to sort through them as he let himself into the house. An embossed envelope, half way down, caught his attention and he tore open the seal when he saw that it was addressed to Dr. and Mrs. Richard Clarkson. He continued to read as he walked down the hallway towards the sound of humming that came from the kitchen.

Hearing his footsteps grow louder she called over her shoulder, "Is that you Richard? Lunch is almost ready." Turning to set their plates on the table, she smiled widely when she saw him leaning against the door jamb lost in a letter. Recognizing the monogram on the back of the envelope, she walked over and leaned against him as she tried to sneak a peek over his shoulder. His hand stroked lazily up and down her back as he continued to read and she was soon lost in her own thoughts, her mind wandered back to another such letter, one that she had received the morning after a proposal of marriage in the rose garden of the Abbey:

_My dearest Isobel,_

_Thank you for your letter of last night, it did much to assuage my feelings, though hurt and confusion were the least of these. You may find that I am not able to express myself as eloquently as you but I feel that you, too, deserve an explanation._

_Yes, it was disconcerting to find the woman that I had only just proposed to in the arms of another man. But one need not possess the skills of Sherlock Holmes to see clearly that Dr. Clarkson is the better match for you. Perhaps if Lucinda and I had a fraction of the magnetism and passion that you share with the doctor, neither of us would have been nearly as unhappy in our marriage._

_As regards my proposal, I wonder if perhaps I might have been a bit hasty. Not that I would have had second thoughts about sharing my life with you, it was more like being carried away with an idea. These months spent walking and talking and dancing, have been some of the happiest of my life. And you, my dear friend Isobel, gave as good as you got, meeting me at every turn with your warmth and kindness and good humor. You allowed me to escape, to be carefree, learning to enjoy the company of a good woman and to appreciate having someone to share my life's experiences with._

_But alas, I believe you are right, I will need to return to the reality of running my estate and I fear that I would have nothing to offer you to rival the excitement of bringing a life into this world, or the equanimity when easing one out. Rest assured, I will return to my life a changed man. Thanks to you, I can now look upon my acquaintances with a new clarity and a new purpose. Instead of merely enduring the endless rounds of dinners and parties, I will be embracing them, looking forward to the possibility of finding someone who matches me, meets me half-way, someone who keeps me in line the way you do._

_I will continue to count you as friend and can only hope that your future husband will allow me to continue to cultivate and grow that friendship. And you need have no fear on that count, my dear, the way the good doctor was looking at you last night…you will be Mrs. Clarkson before my next visit to this village or I'll consider you fair game for a second proposal and marry you myself!_

_With warmest best wishes,_

_James Grey_

James had once aspired to attend medical school but the shackles of his position and title took precedence and he was forced into an arranged marriage that did little to spark his imagination or his passion. It didn't take much for those cooling embers to burst into flame over a bottle of Glenmorangie the first time he stopped for supper with the Clarksons.

Richard enjoyed sharing his knowledge and passion for medicine and found that James' questions kept him on his toes, abreast of the most recent medical discoveries. Isobel was content to sit at one end of the sofa with her embroidery, watching the two men pour over newspaper articles and medical journals as they argued and discussed and discovered many shared interests. And when they would reach an impasse and turn to ask for her opinion, she chose the wise path of rising to kiss her husband on the lips, and her friend on the forehead, before retiring and leaving the two to their argument.

She returned from the past at the feel of his arm tightening around her shoulders and his lips warm against her temple, she roused and looked up at her husband with a questioning eye. "It's from James," he said with a smirk, "He's writing to inform us that he will be bringing a guest when he comes to visit next week."

"A guest?"

"A woman of his acquaintance from London, whom he is quite certain we will come to love as much as he does!" His mustache twitched in amusement as his wife's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, Richard!" she exclaimed and reached for the letter, "Who is she? What does he say about her?" Richard laughed and held the letter just out of reach causing her arms to come to rest around his neck. He leaned in to give her a quick kiss and this was the position that the Dowager Countess found them in as she breezed into the kitchen.

"Hmph! Must you engage in these…_activities_ during the day?!" Violet asked with a sour expression, "In full view of passersby?"

"We're not in full view of anyone who would have paused to knock before entering," replied Isobel testily.

"Why knock? You have no butler to answer the door! Ah, I see you received Lord Merton's letter. I'm here to advise you on the arrangements for Lady Linton," Violet turned on her heel and strode purposefully towards the front parlor.

"How did you know? The letter only just arrived!" A bewildered Isobel followed in her footsteps.

"Who do you think planned the dinner where they met? Adjusted the seating arrangements?" The Dowager shrugged her shoulders smugly as she perched on the edge of the sofa.

Richard could feel the tension rising and could barely contain his laughter at the exasperated look on Isobel's face. "I believe I hear the hospital calling," he said with a chuckle and reached out to squeeze his wife's hand when she narrowed her eyes to glare at him.

Giving Violet a cross between a snarl and a smile she said sweetly, "I'll just put the kettle on and be back in a tick." Pushing Richard ahead of her down the hall, she rolled her eyes and continued, "And you will pay dearly for deserting me in my hour of need!"

"Oh, I'm sure I will," he laughed openly as she blew a loose curl off her forehead in frustration. "Just listen and nod your head in agreement and then plan the weekend the way you wish. I trust you and James trusts you and that is all that is important! Now give us a kiss and I'll get out of your hair."

"Shoo! Go if you're going!" She held out his hat as he shrugged on his coat and held up an indifferent cheek to his kiss, just to make her point. She closed the door firmly behind him, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before turning to do battle with her nemesis.

The end.


End file.
